


i'm deluded to stay (dress rolled up by my waist)

by dankobah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armitage Hux is a Jerk, Arranged Marriage, Emperor Kylo Ren, Empress Rey, F/M, author's first try at ABO, lets hope for the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 04:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21469744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankobah/pseuds/dankobah
Summary: They’re circling each other like defensive Jawas, sizing up and wondering if either one is weak.  Rey refuses to be frail, even when her newly honed muscles begin to ache when she wakes up from her second nap of the day, so uncharacteristic that the medical droid sent for her should be running calculations on the body recognition software with its chip.  Her hair teeters atop her head and she can feel the sweat-soaked sheets beneath her, sitting up as quick as she can to avoid the grimy film. A solid hour in the ‘fresher would make it all go away, but something inside of her feelsoff.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey
Comments: 30
Kudos: 285





	i'm deluded to stay (dress rolled up by my waist)

**Author's Note:**

> tags  
mention of pregnancy/babies  
ABO dynamics  
possessive kylo ren

Rey’s never had a heat before.  
  
Sure, she’s seen heat. Working in the knotting house made her privy to women in heat, sobbing as they press their legs together and soak the bed through with slick. Plutt usually made attendants like Rey take care of the unfortunate soul until an Alpha showed and bought her for a week.

So she would never know about the onset of it, the churning of her stomach and the waning of her appetite in the days before. Rey is a voracious eater, sometimes consuming to the point of being sick like a Tattooine dog who climbed into piles of trash. She chalks the lack of hunger to feeling security in her plentiful food source. For some reason she can’t discern, Kylo has given her free reign of the food stores on the Supremacy.  
  
Maybe he was told to do so. After all, well-fed Omegas are more fertile. Rey can’t be upset about something so strangely kind, even after his master has referred to her as something to breed.  
  
They haven’t done anything commanded of them, and there’s always something else that eats up Kylo’s head and time. From training to off-ship orders, he avoids her except for the nights he crawls beside her in his huge bed and tucks her in when she pretends that she is asleep.

They’re circling each other like defensive Jawas, sizing up and wondering if either one is weak. Rey refuses to be frail, even when her newly honed muscles begin to ache when she wakes up from her second nap of the day, so uncharacteristic that the medical droid sent for her should be running calculations on the body recognition software with its chip. Her hair teeters atop her head and she can feel the sweat-soaked sheets beneath her, sitting up as quick as she can to avoid the grimy film. A solid hour in the ‘fresher would make it all go away, but something inside of her feels off.  
  
“Supreme Leader Snoke has requested your attendance in one galactic hour-” Memory comes back into her foggy brain and her mouth feels extremely dry, her hand raising to halt the droid’s modulator. Another banquet is tonight, one that’s chock-full of First Order endorsers and captains that are seeking to be schmoozed and wooed into emptying their pockets and agreeing to new battle strategy. Everyone is greedy and in Hux’s terms, _ “We need control.” _  
  
She’s in no state to court or coalesce. Definitely not willing to slide into another gown that exposes her like a piece of meat. “Is my husband going?” Husband has shifted to a fixed word, whereas she is Rey from his tongue. She is expected to produce an heir for him while he is expected to rule. There’s no fairness but there are credits tangled in her occupancy and expectations came with financial investments.  
  
“Yes, he is-” Her hand raises again, the modulator stops with a crackle. Rey pulls the covers further over her burning legs, trying to snuff out the fire creating trails of sweat across her skin. Perhaps she’s sick, but the medical droid would signal if that were the case. Something else is amiss, and she can’t spend time dwelling on what it could be.  
  
“Leave me.” The medical droid takes the order and hovers out of the room. The metal door slides closed with a whoosh, leaving her in the inconspicuous hum of the Supremacy. Her head noticeably pounds now while her hazel eyes glaze over as she tries to blink the pain away. No such relief would befall her tonight, and she’s edging off the bed with soreness in her limbs that tires her.  
  
A good scrub down is first on the agenda, stepping into the cavernous refresher while it’s still cold. Rey hopes it’ll chill her enough so she'll be able to function. No success lands, feeling the blaze again when she steps out of the shower and wraps up in a downy towel. She refuses to look in the mirror as she stands at the sink, too troubled by the potential sight that reflects back. She wants to slither back into bed; she sees what happens to people who refuse Snoke and it leaves her no option to fight. Beginning to finger comb through her sopping hair, she fails to notice when an attendant droid flies into the room.  
  
“Kylo Ren has requested braids for your hair choice tonight.” Rey jumps at the unexpected noise, looking in the mirror to view the droid. What an abnormal request, she’s never pegged him for someone who cares about vanity. Not when he wears a mask any chance he gets. She’s more comfortable staring at the opaque thermosensors than his even more cold and calculating gaze.   
  
Rey nods. Who is she to refuse an Alpha? “Let me pick my clothing and sit down.” Her legs feel wobbly as she steps off the moisture wicking mat and onto the heated tile. Hopping across as if it were lava, she pushes feebly past the droid and makes quick work of entering their shared closet. She’s gazed upon his rack in the past, all dull blacks and hints of menacing metals.  
  
Something tempts her to look again and reach for a surcoat, woolen and midnight like the rest. Before she comprehends, she’s holding it up to her nose to inhale like air. Kylo's scent is cosmically better than everything else she’s smelled, even under the chemical cut of the blockers they previously flooded into him like a Fathier. Earthy while maintaining bright citrus, the aroma spurs her gland to thrum against her neck.  
  
When she realizes what she’s doing, her hands drop the fabric in a flash and her body recoils. Usually, she’s only intoxicated by his smell at night, always shifting so she can inhale the part of the blanket he’s resting under. She’s not allowed to touch him still, only in public where her hand can fall across his bicep. Some would speculate that an Omega so far removed from her Alpha is a sin. The order is that she needs to be mated, full of cum for a baby to fester inside of her swollen belly. They both don’t like that thought and still avoid the outcome like bantha sickness.   
  
It hangs in her subconscious as she turns to comb through her rack, skating past the sparring tunics and silk robes to the gowns. All the dresses are ridiculous and ostentatious in her eyes, but some are growing more prevalent in her girlish fantasies.  
  
The rosy gown that her hands land on is a recurring thought in her orbit. Pink and off the shoulder, it breeds scandalous romanticism while the blooming and raised blossoms wind their tendrils across the fabric in innocence. It reminds her of what she thinks would be spring. She only grabs the dress and a thong. Right now, she’d rather go bare, but a future empress wouldn’t be caught dead with her cunt on display beneath her skirts.  
  
The droid waits with tactile and whirring pincers when she walks out into the bedroom. She can only sit down at the vanity she’s been allotted (that she never uses), skin feeling like it’s going to blister over from burns. The work begins on her damp hair while her gaze fixes on the mirror before her. She’s trying to ignore the signs of sickness. A sheen of sweat and rosy cheeks make her look like she’s glowing, freckles popping out against the pallor that befalls a corpse rather than a twenty-year-old. Her eyes lid then shut in exhaustion.  
  
Rey’s nearly asleep, drifting away when the droid moves away from her head. Hazel eyes snap awake to look in the mirror again, a six-strand braid that hangs between her shoulder blades. Rey’s braided hair before, a kind of requirement to learn when living with multiple women, but the intricacy goes beyond her basic skills. It reads as regal to her, causing her chin to lift a fraction. Then her pupils dart to the droid in the glass, “Thank you.”  
  
Droids never register pleasantries, not unless they’re trained. It lingers to help with the dress. A deep inhale swells against her ribs and subsides like the tides while she exhales. Then she rises, still a little shaky as she drops the towel she’s been clutching to her chest this entire time. It falls at her feet, and she treads over it. The tile is colder in their bedroom, soothing her soles and extending up her flesh as she steps into the dress and shimmies it up to sit on her hips. The neckline sits off her shoulders and the droid flies behind her to lace up the embedded corset while Rey feels more sweat bead on the back of her neck. Somehow she’s still upright, head straight and glad that she’s chosen the strappy sandals to hide beneath the flow of the skirt, fabric swirling out when she gives a test spin.  
  
It’s after careful examination that she leans on her elbows and applies mascara to her eyelashes, unwilling to do anything else to help the state of her appearance. They’re lucky she even woke up. She takes one last look in the mirror, and there’s nothing more she can wait around for, attendance required in only fifteen minutes. The Supremacy is large so walking would eat up almost all of that time, especially with the dizziness she’s now feeling. Finding her husband is also a priority since she refuses to go alone.  
  
The second item on the priority completes itself when she exits their quarters, his scent smacking her across the cheek. Her head rolls around, clearing up the fog and one thing on her mind:

_ Alpha. Where is my Alpha? _  
  
Kylo stands down the hall, speaking low to a Stormtrooper. As soon as the mechanical door shuts behind her, his head snaps to stare at her. Sans mask today, his brows arch up and then crease together as his nose wrinkles. Does she smell that bad? He smells so lush, even from this distance.  
  
Before she realizes what she's doing, she's walking towards him with a rapidity none would've expected only a day ago, let alone when they first met in the throne room where they were both told that he _ owns _ her. It takes everything she has inside of her shivering and aching body not to wrap herself around him like a swaddle upon a newborn. Instead, they stand only a foot apart with her skirt assisting in the distance and making her suffer. She swears she can feel the sweat drip down the middle of her back, creating a rivulet beneath her cinched corset.   
  
His smell is making her salivate, near the point of foaming at the mouth if she didn’t swallow it down. Swearing she can taste its acidity, she wonders why he’s just studying her with his Corellian brandy eyes and looming over her. Without his mask, her eyes can rake over him too. From the dotting of moles to the way his lower lip is fuller than the top; the severe cut of his jaw and the pseudo First Order get up. There’s no insignia indicating rank and she wouldn’t expect any for a future emperor. There’s more luxury in his outfit, metallic detailing lining the jacket and shiny utilitarian boots that hit mid-calf. The lightsaber is sheathed at his hip. The look is simple, blending into the glossy black floor beneath their feet and the consistency in the walls. Every hallway looks the same as every other Star Destroyer. Uniformity squishes personality, which makes for better soldiers.  
  
She knows a Destroyer’s layout from sneaking away and climbing into one when she was very small, grappling down the insides with a dangerously frayed rope. There is hope that this thought would take away the nauseous turn in her stomach, but no such luck tampers it.  
  
“Ready?” There’s usual coldness in his tone but an edge of strain colors it. Her desperation for some contact makes her lips part, and a whine vibrates in her throat. She can’t help it, not while her whole body is plunging into something unknown, a sickness or a state of being that scares her.  
  
His pupils dilate, and in an unusual move, he steps closer to her to encroach into her space and smash the front of her skirt against her thighs. Their height difference is so noticeable here, Alpha and Omega looking at one another. Malnourishment has made her small and especially frail, the top of her head barely clearing his shoulder while he stood larger than life and rippling with muscle that she’s only seen while he spars. Otherwise he’s always covered up.  
  
She wants to be held, a foolish thought that makes her consciousness raise a protest. Kylo Ren isn’t here for her, only for the title and other personal motivations. He could do what he wanted while she can’t dream of swirling around her quarterstaff without judgement ever again. A spot on her neck burns but she’s so foggy that there’s no prayer of paying any attention to it. “Come closer.”  
  
A command, not an option. There’s no time to resist, limbs propelling Rey even closer and smashing the skirt into Kylo's thighs, close as can be with the safety of fabric protecting their skin; even though she’s burning up and trembling. Before she can stop herself, “Everything is so hot.” A simple complaint, the temperature of her skin more trivial than the dizziness that whirls behind her eyelids.  
  
His gloved hand tentatively raises, and she realizes she’s only been grabbed by her bicep and pushed on the small of her back. Never touched on the face, his fingers cradling her jaw and rubbing along the hollow of her cheek. Touch fuels her inside, bringing forward the presence of someone in her head. Her sense of the Force has dulled since she’s woken up and she’s now getting sifted through like he did their first night together, when she cried and told him to stop.

He had stopped then.  
  
This time isn’t fair. “No. No-“ her breath hitches against the corset and the presence evaporates. The touch doesn’t.  
  
“Let me see. I can help you.”  
  
If he can help her like he claims, she’d be daft not to accept it. Skepticism still rears its head, but she leans further into his uncharacteristically gentle grasp. Opening up her mind, fully now, she feels him mesh with the contents of her brain and orbit around her neurons like a moon. This is the first time this sort of invasion has been allowed between them and his prodding is so delicate that she can barely detect.  
  
His eyes shut as he parses through each little sense and reaction of her body. His eyes snap open after a minute of this, and there’s an unwind like anything else, spiraling out quick and leaving her brain to pop like a cork.  
  
A little woozy, her eyes lid for a moment and his other hand reaches to hold along the dip of the corset. “Let’s go. We don’t have to stay long.” Didn’t they have to? As the soon to be emperor and empress? Must they greet the military that protects them?  
  
There’s no reason to argue. The sooner Rey can crawl back in bed, the better. She slowly nods in response. “You’ll be okay. Come.”  
  
There’s coaxing in his tone, trying to tempt a lothcat from a cave. Without further hesitation, Kylo begins his slow walk and she follows. He’s holding her stable and upright with his hand still on the dip of her waist. Stormtroopers, no matter where they had been intending on going, clear the elevator as it opens for them. Somehow they maintain a sort of cluttered formation while they perform it as is customary in greeting royalty.  
  
That word doesn’t feel right to describe them. Unhappy would be better, lavishly upset and bothered by the world when they shouldn’t be. They’re both too high above other people in power, and she certainly doesn’t want the pressure of what they need to complete. Galactic order is a tricky business that seems to have no correct way about it.

_ At least, _ she thinks bitterly, _ Snoke will guide us. _  
  
The doors shut and her eyes fixate on their reflection in the glass, fogged over to hide the contents of the lift. There’s blurring on the edges of her vision, his scent overwhelming the enclosed space and making more spit pool in her mouth as her tongue tastes the air. Her throat tightens and she struggles not to make a pitiful noise. His hand tightens its hold and pulls her closer into his side. Her head turns to bury her nose into his lapel and gasp for precious oxygen. Unable to stop and spine rippling with another shivering spell, her self control is wound so tight it might snap. All of these interactions feel so wrong but she just wants to be safe, ignoring all semblance of rational thought. 

“What’s wrong with me?” Muffled begging in her tone, he has to comprehend something further than she can see. Before he can look down to answer her, the door opens up to another collection of troopers that part. They’ve arrived at their desired floor and he whisks her out without another word.  
  
Walking down the hall feels like torture to her tired legs, as does lifting her shoulders and head high before the banquet doors to appear regal. They are apart again while maintaining the semblance of purity and power before their empire. Though Rey feels weak, small, and scared, she can’t stop the two service droids stand when they begin to open the doors to the high ceilinged ballroom she had become so accustomed to.  
  
Something unexpected happens then. Kylo’s arm yanks on her waist, pushing them back together and bringing on a new face to all who know their reign. Eyes from all sorts of officers bore into them as he marches her past the attention and right to Hux. The ginger is always their first visit during these events to make their arrival known. Rey would much rather ignore him entirely as she is unappreciative of the way he and Kylo’s interactions become increasingly hostile with each breath.  
  
They have to wane in front of guests so the usual sneer is shot at them when they stop before him. “What progress have you made?” Kylo gives orders instead of asking questions and she can’t dwell on the sudden shift in attitude as her legs push together beneath her skirt. Her belly feels warm and twisted up, inner thighs rubbing along each other.  
  
“Plenty.” Rey can catch the gloat behind his words in the tense of Kylo’s grip on her waist. Then Hux looks at her, up and down in a brazen move that surprises her. All she’s seen is cowardice from Hux.

Hux huffs at her, then looking back to her husband with another scoff. “Snoke will appreciate your cooperation.” Kylo’s hand clenches tighter, making her slightly wince as he jerks her away from Hux.

The schmoozing begins in the same breath, wheeling to a huddled group of officers to assimilate into their conversation like honey melts into tea.

Maybe the night would begin to shift to an equilibrium.

\---------------------------

Instinct screams that he should remove her from this place.

Fear roars louder, lazing above all the rest like a ruler in their throne. It’s enough that every tendon in his body is drawn tight, along with his attitude and notoriously thin patience that stood between life and death for some.

The day has felt impossible since he woke up, a nuisance of a feeling taking over his bones and battling the marrow. He’s weaker during sparring, actually getting knocked down by the battle holo for once. That irregularity had been enough to lock himself away in his meditation chambers, legs crossed and hands sometimes fidgeting as he began to identify the problem.

His rut is coming on. 

He realized it with a smash of his fist into the thick pane of the observation window, willing it to crack and vacuum him out into the cosmos. The backaches and scratchy throat make sense, as does his perspiring skin.

It means Rey’s near heat. The shift in her energy level to her appetite, there’s no wonder why she seems so sapped. Rey’s smell had nearly blinded him when she had left their chambers, to the point of rigidity and a stir of his cock in his pants that persisted to now. He’s glad he’s wearing a jacket to cover the amount of regret he feels or the soft trickle of disapproval that melts into his brain every second. Kylo’s become good at walling Snoke off for a temporary amount of time, but he escapes occasionally to remind him how shameful being attracted to someone is.

He can only focus on how good Rey smells or how she repeats a disturbing shivering spell every ten minutes. There had been no hesitation in holding her, in contrary to space he previously enforced between them. Kylo hadn’t wanted a wife, some little thing to cling onto him and tell him pretty lies that Snoke fed to her. But right now, with her smell becoming more appealing by the minute, his mouth is watering and there's no way he’s letting his spouse go in the presence of mass greed. Kylo sees how men stare at her, all over her as soon as her back turns. Kylo and Rey’s presence here is becoming more dangerous; with all this attention that makes Kylo want to unclip the lightsaber from his belt and plunge it into the next pair of eyes he spies.

There’s no way he can even attempt something of the sort, even on the cusp of being the most powerful in the galaxy. Any minute now, he’s going to pull her out of the room and lift her skirt to bury his face in her cunt. Maybe it would smell as good as the rest of her, honeyed while maintaining the sharp scent of sand swirling in the wind.

He’s done nothing of the sort before, even when omegas have been offered to him from all directions. He’d rather just take more suppressants, or lock himself in his chambers and wait it out. Kylo hasn’t cared about sex, hasn’t ever wanted it before now.

It’s when they’re moving to another group of officers that she stops. He halts with her, testing a yank on her waist. Rey’s head begins to vibrate, tears springing to her eyes. The contents of her subconscious, testing with a shallow probe, scare him. It’s a series of four words, replaying over and over. _ Hurts, please, Alpha, help. _They scramble infrequently but her logical brain seems to have checked out in opt for a primitive response. There’s nothing he can focus on except for her scent that edges with a fresh panic, infiltrating every cell in his body.

Kylo strains, making her step forward with pure dizziness and legs near teetering over. That worries him further, tugging again and depositing them into rapid motion where he supports all her weight and she has the option of dragging her feet or walking.

Either way, they’re leaving faster than any can catch up. Protocol or appearances be damned, she’s coiling into heat and him into his own brand of an unsuppressed and chthonian rut. Organs stir inside her when he traipses through her nerve endings, firing off nearly every second and working her into a quivering mess when they skid into the corridor. 

“What’s happening to me?”

He intends to answer this time, worrying about her reaction becoming a thing of history. 

“You’re going into heat.” 

Kylo just wants to bury so deep in her pussy until he can’t locate his sanity, gyrating into the back of her skirt when they stand before the elevator. His biceps cage her, almost pushing down on her throat. He wants friction and his cock finds it, feeling her body tense and relax as the elevators open and more stormtroopers stand in the confines.

A growl leaves his throat, spinning into a snarl that gets the group to move quickly and stay away from both of their persons. They enter the elevator and he swipes his hand to force the doors to close and to provoke the elevator to move. Spit floods his mouth, unable to resist bending down and burying his face into the crook of her neck. Her scent gland is inflamed, pulsing while his tongue swipes over it in a movement to soothe. That's the intent, the holocrons he reads don’t specify why. “It really hurts.” A whine that punches him in the gut, he licks more to ease her pain. 

”Tell me what hurts.”

_ Let me knot you and pump you full of my cum. _

”My stomach, my-”

Her stuttering turns into shallow gasps, Kylo’s spine twists over the bond. Everything inside of him is ready to rip himself apart to make her hurt go away. The lift is too slow, and he contemplates stopping it to just dive under her skirt and give into his hardwired need to fuck right _ now _.

He’s never been known for patience, or even kindness when he really desires something. Nothing stands in their way when the doors slide open, briefly glad as he drags her out and down the hall. There’s a brief moment where he contemplates carrying her but he manages to resist. There’s nothing that stops the indelicate shove on her back to shove her into their shared quarters.

Her trembling whine is so quiet, Kylo unable to keep his grip on her as she grips the top of the chaise to steady herself. The scent of her is consuming him.

“Let me help you.” He’s trying to maintain an unnatural evenness, near pleading as his tone slips. He can’t _ do _anything, as much as he wants to. If his needs had a say, she’d be on the floor and he would be buried deep inside of her. 

Biology says otherwise; an Omega is given the ability to deny an Alpha.

“I’ve never had a heat before.” Fear saturates the stale air.

The poor girl; his heart leaps up in his chest. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Have you done this before?” How is she still speaking? Albeit, her tone is strained and her knuckles are white from gripping the fabric. 

He decides that honesty, especially given the beginnings of their bond, is needed. “No, I know what to do though.”

There’s no space to argue. “Please, Rey.” He sounds so weak to his ears, especially when he reaches out his hand for her to take. It physically pains him not to touch her currently, watching her spine ripple and a teeter as she stands upright without steadying herself.

He won’t be able to stay in the same room as her if she denies him. Kylo can’t hurt her, he’ll never be able to forgive himself. But she nearly falls and collides with his body, flashing out to grab her elbows and pull her into a tight embrace to secure her. Rey lays her head against him, inhaling against his jacket. 

“Take me to bed.”

You’d think he got a blaster bolt to the belly from the way he reacts, limbs jolting his hands to reach behind her back and latch onto the fabric of the corset. He rips at it as if it were only ribbon, freeing her and lifting her out of the skirt. The fabric falls to her feet while she is pulled into a cradle against him with slick smearing across the front of his tunic.

Kylo is painfully hard at the smell, as a nearly disintegrated thong rubs along his naval. She’s grinding her hips against him like a needy little Twi’lek in a cantina, and he is ready to protect the beautiful girl in his arms until he can’t breathe.

He rips the top sheet off the bed, leaving only brain-worm silk sheets beneath. Tenderness bleeds as he crawls onto the bed with her, eclipsing her body with his and reluctantly sitting back on the heel of his boots. Kylo needs his clothes off, and she’s writhing and whimpering.

His heart thumps in a disjointed rhythm as he’s throwing the squeaky jacket onto the floor. Being normally so meticulous with how much of his skin shows means that the thrill of taking off each layer is akin to what he assumes sex might feel like. Her hands are on herself before he can stop them, pushing fabric aside and plunging into the overwhelming wetness that dribbles from her lips with each shallow breath.

Watching her needily touch herself, stuffing as many fingers as she can fit inside of her, allows the tunic to come off easily. His hands vibrate as he nearly rip the laces on his pants apart, unable to wait as he heaves his cock from the constricting fabric. Beads of nearly translucent pre-come weep from the purpling head, knot pulsing at the base with the threat of thickening up without a mate.

There’s some sanity left that worries about how he’ll fit inside of her, given that she’s so small. A moan pierces his psyche, puncturing that worry. He has one more question, “Chipped?” Did the medical droid do what he asked in preparation for their wedding? For the sex that didn’t happen, the night she stormed out of their shared bedroom in opt of somewhere else? 

Snoke has left his head for the time being, probably sensing that Kylo is about to fuck the brains out of his mate. Her head lifts, locking eyes with him and offering a nod. That’s enough of an answer, taking physical control as if she’s a floppy doll, and pulls her up onto his lap to just barely skim over his cock and buy essential time. Her legs force apart, straddling him as he noses along the throbbing gland behind her ear. The lemon and sandy clean aroma is the strongest there, so intoxicating that his eyes nearly roll back into his head. She’s made for him, the Force delivering someone so pure and strong to rival him.

Kylo normally hates challenges and competition, sparring with his Knights of Ren being a prime example of just how violent he can be when threatened. They wield live blades, it’s a miraculous wonder that no one’s gotten killed-

“Please.”

Rey’s nails dig into the marred flesh of his back, hard enough to hurt a little. He blames it on the weaker muscles and her scalding skin on his chest. She’s so close, clinging to him and shifting to try to shove his cock inside of her on her innate volition. 

She takes what she wants. What a smart and complimentary girl.

There’s nothing tender about the way he pushes her back against the pillows and drives her legs even further apart.

One hand lines up so hasty, bypassing the fact that he’s never fucked someone before in his entire existence. He’s thought about it for brief blips of time before Snoke gets in and changes the scene into brutality. 

He tries hard to be careful with his little Omega and she’s pushing her lips into his skin with lidded eyes. “Bite my shoulder.”

Rey does as she’s told, grinding her teeth over the muscle to make his stomach stop contracting. That’s when he pushes into her, one quick movement that’s aided by the slick smeared over her inner thighs and dripping from her cunt. Drool trickles down his chest from her gnawing at him.

Her eyes are closed, eyebrows knitted together. The strength it takes not to fuck her senseless in two seconds is astronomical, knuckles turning white from the pressure on her hips. “Good?”

They’re both green to something like this.

Her nod is quick and desperate. Kylo can't hold back anymore, rolling his hips forward like a tide. He nearly pulls out with each thrust, unsure of the slug speed he's building. This isn't sating her, clear in how her face twists up and whimpers leave her mouth.

“Deeper.” She gasps. He does what he's told, sheathing himself as far as he can go despite the worry that he could be hurting her. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, tiny moans leaving her lips with every push of his hips. He’s making a home for himself, deep inside to fulfill his duties as an Alpha given the precious gift of an Omega.

Snoke would argue that she’s lucky to have him, whereas he’s extremely fortunate to be allotted her. Body, mind, and soul.

He ruts into her like a virgin would, shamefully and desperately as he grips the bedsheet with a straining hand and holds under her hips with the other so he can use her. At some point, her hand is ripping his from the sheet and she’s holding it tightly, never letting go.

“Please, Alpha.”

He needs to know what to do, kissing her viciously before sucking marks into her collarbones as his knot thickens further. He’s so close, so used to slamming himself into his hand so the need to fuck would stop for long enough to get a blink of sleep. 

“Knot me.”

She doesn’t have to ask twice, biology taking ahold and warping his brain to shove himself inside and let the knot do the work. It works like a charm, coming much to his relief and breathing hard and heavy. A sheen of sweat is spread across her forehead and chest, mirroring his perspiration and exhaustion.

Alpha tendencies present hard, his hand coming to push tiny strands of hair from her face. She gazes up at him, half-lidded as he spills more come into her. Her voice is hoarse after a long moment of staring at each other, “How long does this last?”

All the holocrons say different things. He estimates, “Thirty minutes. You’ll want to get fucked again soon though.”

Her breath hitches. “I feel like I just trained with thirty battle holos.”

He adjusts their position, pushing her on top and being careful of the knot inside of her. Wrapping her in his arms comes easily to him, wanting to shield her from all that could hurt her. “I’ll do all the work. You just need to let me.” It would be an honor to care for her. Especially as she gives a content sigh and reaches to rub a hand down the plane of his contracting abdominal muscles. Coming is like a pulse, clockwork. 

She nuzzles into his swollen scent gland in response, licking over the inflammation with a rhythm that makes his back twist up again. He’d put a baby in this girl in a heartbeat; it’s better that she’s been chipped. 

Neither of them could handle such a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ABO, so please let me know how i did. 
> 
> thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["hatefuck" by cruel youth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW6xG6YpIok)
> 
> the list:  
[the dress](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/post/189133086777/pinkwinged-teuta-matoshi-duriqi)


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